What was I Thinking?
by TheSocialLoner
Summary: "Yeah, I'm sorry too." I snapped, "But sorry doesn't cut it. Sorry didn't put me back in the game, and sorry won't make me win this season. So everyone can shove their sorrys up their ungrateful asses because I am WINNING this season!"
1. My Life Sucks

**What was I Thinking?**

**Chapter 1 **

**

* * *

**My life sucks.

* * *

"It's not fair Bridgette! What did I do to make my life suck so hard! What did I do!" I shouted pacing back and forth in my room while my blond best (and only) friend sat on my bed listening patiently.

"You didn't do anything Courtney." She spoke calmly and evenly like I was a scared animal that needed to be soothed, "And you're life doesn't suck."

Bridgette's attempts at making me 'chill out' only infuriated me further. "Well I'd like your explanation as to why my life doesn't suck because in my opinion, IT DOES. First, I can't participate in this season because Chris a complete and total moron! Then, my pathetic lawyers can't win my frickin lawsuit! Plus, I had to watch my so-called boyfriend cheat on me with some gothic slut while I'm stuck in this set full of losers! HOW DOES THAT NOT SUCK!"

The surfer chick put her hands up in surrender but held her ground in her argument that my life didn't suck.

"Duncan didn't cheat on you! He really likes you Court. Didn't you see the video on the last aftermath?" She gave me a hopeful smile.

"Oh yeah," I scowled "I saw the video. I paid special attention to the part where he practically _made out with Gwen_!"

Bridgette frowned and I think I heard her mumble something about wanting to "kill Geoff" for "showing the rest of the stupid video".

"It wasn't _that bad_…" she said quietly though I knew she agreed with me on the inappropriateness of the moment. Her voice went one octave higher when she 'that bad', which only happens when she lies.

"It wasn't 'that bad'? He was on top of her Bridgette!" I screeched, "ON TOP OF HER!"

Bridgette sighed and looked down at her sandals like she always did when she was exasperated with me. "I don't know what to say Courtney. I'll admit, you're in a pretty bad situation right now but you can't stay in this emotional funk forever. If you want something done, do it. Don't just mope around."

I balled one of my hands into a fist and pounded it into my open palm. "You're right Bridge. Courtney Summers doesn't mope around! I'll show them. I'll show them all…"

* * *

**AN:**

**Me: Yeah, I know, I shouldn't be taking on another story right now, but I wanted to do this before everyone forgot about good old TDA. And yes, I did just refer to TDA as "good" and "old". Compared to the whole TDWT Duncan and DuncanxGwen fiasco, TDA was a walk in the park. :P **

**I think I can speak for all Duncney and Courtney fans when I say the DxG kiss this sucks ass. Poor Courtney, it stinks to have your heart broken. As for Duncan, I am presently very annoyed at him. Stupid, heartless, manwhore. I'm sad to say that I'm not so surprised at Gwen, though I do wish she had more class than to make out with a "taken" guy.**

**But now I'm ranting. I should probably end this author's note now before I break out my "Reasons Why I Hate DxG" rant and get myself more pissed off than I already am. Take it away Bridgette, my lovely neutral character.**

**Bridgette: Laura owns nothing, if she did, TDA and TDWT would be pretty different. **

**Surfers united R&R! **


	2. Selling my Soul

**What was I Thinking?**

**Chapter 2

* * *

**

Selling my soul.

* * *

I stared off into the distance ominously until I noticed Bridgette looking at me funny. She seemed slightly freaked out. I snapped back into attention and decided to change the subject.

"So…" I started, "What's going on with you and Geoff?"

Bridgette sighed sadly, "It's… it's hard to explain. I feel like I don't even know him anymore. He's changed so much since we got the Aftermath gig. He used to be sweet and kind but now he's acting like Chris! I just feel so lost and I wish we could go back to the way we were."

I gave her a sad smile. "I think I know how you feel."

Bridgette, who was presently sitting cross-legged on my bed, slouched. "Men really suck."

"Amen to that!" I threw my hands in the air and chuckled.

She smiled and straightened up a little. "I meant what I said earlier. Seize the day Court!"

"Good advice." I said. But still, it was unclear to me how to 'seize the day'. What was I supposed to do? Demand that Chris let me back on the show? Sue the show again? Beat Gwen to a bloody pulp for throwing herself at my boyfriend? Do all three? This would require some thought. But fortunately for me, the universe seemed to be doing my thinking for me.

The door to my room randomly burst open and Chef Hachette walked in.

"CHEF!" Bridgette and I screamed in unison, both scared to death that the psychotic cook was here to murder us.

He nodded calmly, unfazed by our terror. "Mmm hmm."

"What the hell are you doing here!" I shouted angrily, "You can't just barge in here like that!"

Chef rolled his dark beady eyes. "Quit your yellin. Pretty boy wants to talk to you."

Since our resident pretty boy Justin was currently in the game, he must have been talking about Chris. "Chris? Why does _Chris_ want to see me?"

His ever present scowl deepened. "How should I know? You think I understand what goes on in that moron's head?"

I opened my mouth to answer but he didn't let me. "Well I don't. All I know is that he wants to see you. So get your butt down to his office!"

I stood firmly where I was, and refused to move. Fat chance I was letting this whack job boss me around! I've got too much pride for that.

"NOW SOLDIER! NOW!" Chef thundered.

Swallowing my pride like a gulp of water, I immediately started moving towards the door. I glanced back at Bridgette, who gave me a thumbs up.

"Carpe diem Courtney!" she shouted, "Carpe diem!"

. . .

Chris's office was that of a typical narcissist. The plain white walls were covered with posters and pictures of him. In each one, he wore his signature toothy grin. The room was like an iceberg, due to the large air conditioner on the wall. This would be normal, if he wasn't the _only one_ on set with central air. Chris sat in a cozy armchair with a foot rest while I sat on a small, uncomfortable stool across from him. Screw suing this jerk to get back on TDA, I should sue him for being a sociopath!

So we sat there silently for a while, me glaring at him and him giving me this weird smile. It was like he knew something I didn't, and the feeling that I was 'out of the loop' made my blood boil.

Finally, he spoke. "You're back."

"What?" I tilted my head to the side quizzically, not quite understanding what he meant.

"You're back." Chris repeated, "You're back in the game."

My onyx eyes widened. "What! But why? I dropped my lawsuit weeks ago. Why am I suddenly joining TDA?"

The washed up TV host gasped and placed a hand over his non-existent heart like he was terribly insulted. "Out of the kindness of my heart, I begged the judge to change the ruling. You won the suit, and you're back in."

I scowled. "Hey! You can't just make the justice system do whatever you want it to do!"

Technically, I was arguing against something that was good for me, but I couldn't stand Chris making a mockery out of the law. I _was _going to be a lawyer after all.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I'm Chris Mclean, I can do whatever I want. And don't you _want _to be in TDA?"

I bit my lip. "Well… yes but…"

"No buts!" he snapped, "Do you want in or not?"

I thought for a moment. I did want to be back in the game. To prove myself to everyone. To see Duncan.

"Yes." I said simply and extended my hand for him to shake.

He grasped my hand in his and pumped it up and down, smiling like an idiot. "Go pack you're things. You'll be back in the game by tomorrow."

I got up of my stool and headed towards the exit, but stopped myself before I left. Something didn't seem right about this whole thing.

"Wait a minute." I turned around to face Chris, "That's it? No clauses or conditions? No strings attached?"

Chris gave me that creepy 'I know something you don't know' look again. "Of course not. Why would you think there would be strings attached to kindness?"

"No reason." I said quickly, and left the room to go and pack my bags. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just been played.

_I'm just being paranoid. _I tried to convince myself. _Just think of being back in the game. You get to see Duncan again. Duncan…_

Suddenly, I wasn't so suspicious anymore.

* * *

**AN:**

**Me: Oooooh Chris is being sneaky :O Sorry this chappie was so short. I promise the next one will be longer. **

**Noah: *sarcastically* Oh goodie more of your wonderful writing.**

**Me: Ha ha. Your sarcasm kills me. Lets end this author's note before I start ranting shall we?**

**Noah: Laura owns nothing. R&R. Or don't. I don't care. But she does.**

**Me: True that.**


	3. Ocean's 8 or 9

**What was I Thinking?**

**Chapter 3**

**

* * *

**Ocean's 8… or 9

* * *

The morning when I was going back into the game was hot and muggy.

Not many people came to see me off. Believe or not, I'm not really that popular. Crazy right? Plus, most off the other ex contestants either didn't give a damn, or were jealous. But I refused to let the lack of people rooting for me get me down. Besides, Bridgette was there, and she was the only one that really mattered.

Geoff, DJ, and Trent were standing outside the limo also, but I doubted that they were there for me. Geoff probably just wanted an interview for the next aftermath in which he could twist my words and make me look like a total moron. DJ was obviously there just because he's too damn nice _not _to be there. And Trent? Well, odds are Trent was there to give me ideas on how to kill Duncan. Since we were both under the impression that Duncan and Gwen were cheating on us, Trent wasn't Duncan's biggest fan.

But like I said, none of the guys were there for me; they all had their own motives. You might think I look for the worst in people. I think I'm a realist.

Still, motives or not, there we were out on the street next to the set, an old rickety limousine parked in front of us. I opened the limo's rusty door slowly to make sure it didn't fall off, and thrust my suit case inside. Spinning on my heel, I then about-faced to say my goodbyes.

"Bye DJ." I gave him a small smile and a little wave.

"Good luck Courtney," he grinned, "And could you tell my team I'm sorry?"

I rolled my eyes but didn't stop smiling, "Sure."

I walked up to Trent, who was next in the line of farewells. "Trent." I gave him a small nod.

"Later." A mischievous glint appeared in his emerald eyes, "By the way, if Duncan gives you any crap, you should punch him out. And if he doesn't listen to that, hit him another 8 times."

I chuckled, "Sure thing."

"So Courtney," Geoff pulled out a tape recorded and a sly smirk, "what are your thoughts on-"

"No comment." I said coolly and walked past him to Bridgette. Try turning that against me Captain Hollywood!

Bridgette gave Geoff a scowl and turned to me. "Good luck Court, I'll be rooting for you!" she held up a poster covered in glitter and smiley faces. In large purple bubble letters it read 'TEAM COURTNEY!'

"Awww!" I cooed and wrapped my arms around her, "That's so sweet! I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." She returned my hug, "Win this for me Court! Or at least try your best."

I returned my arms to my sides and grinned, "Don't worry, I'll win it. Mark my words.

I turned back towards the old limo and stepped inside. The seats looked and felt like they might have once been comfortable, but now the leather was cracked and the cushions were hard from being sat on a few too many times. A smell of bile and nicotine hung in the stale air, suggesting that the "fancy" car was once owned by a chain smoking bulimic. I wouldn't be surprised. Figures that Chris would be cheap enough to buy a car in this condition to save a buck.

The door's lock was broken, so it required two slams to get it shut. Once I was safely inside, the engine sputtered and turned on. I didn't bother looking to see who the driver was, knowing Chris it was probably Chef or that intern. His name was Billy or something… I forget.

As the car began to move forward, thick exhaust and fumes flew out of the tailpipe, nearly choking the line of teens watching me leave. I noticed Bridgette shouting to me.

Opening the window to understand her yells, I heard her shout, "Seize *cough* the *cough* day! *cough cough cough*" After finishing her message, she hunched over clutching her stomach, wheezing and choking on the foul air.

Concerned, I stuck my head out the window to make sure she was ok, and she gave me a small thumbs up to signal she was fine. I let out a sigh of relief and settled back in my seat for the drive. 

TDA, here I come.

. . .

The drive to the old abandoned film set was long, but not relaxing. My head was filled with strategies, ways to win this season and knock everyone else out of the water. I wouldn't lose this time, I just wouldn't.

I was also concerned about how the other contestants might react to me joining the season. Would they be happy to see me? Would they resent me for coming in so late? I suspected the latter.

But more importantly, how would Duncan react to me? I was mad at him, that's for sure, and didn't want much to do with him, but I did still sort of care for him. Would he be happy to see me? Would he tell me that Gwen meant nothing to him and beg for my forgiveness? Or… Would he tell me he likes Gwen now and that I was dead to him and humiliate me on international TV? Ok that probably wouldn't happen, but anything's possible.

I let out a frustrated sigh and tried to clear my head. Glancing out the window, I noticed something familiar. A broken stop sign. We'd driven past a few times. We were driving in circles. Suddenly it hit me. This was a trick, to make it seem like we were farther from the set of TDA than we thought. Anger welled up in my stomach. I was this close to the game the whole time? I probably could have walked there!

The Chef/Billy driver made a stomach turning sharp turn and drove down a dock. He stopped next to a bunch of buildings that I assumed were parts of the set. He exited the driver's seat, finally giving away his anonymity, showing he was the intern.

Billy walked to my door and pulled the handle roughly. It didn't budge. He then kicked it with his left sandal and the door opened quickly, dropping paint and rust chippings as it swung.

I raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say a word. It's better not to talk to those intern types, they never last long.

He grabbed my bags and started towards the buildings, gesturing for me to follow. We walked in awkward silence for a minute or two until he spoke, "So, how did you get back on the show anyway?"

"Well, I sued the show a couple of times but Chris always won," he nodded for me to continue, "and, you're not going to believe this but Chris put me back on. Apparently Chris begged for the court's verdict to be changed, and they actually did it! Just proves how famous people get whatever they want."

Billy turned to me suddenly, "Seriously, he just told you you're back on? No strings attached?"

"Mmmhmm." I nodded and gave a small smile.

He looked at me with what seemed like worry and pity. This bothered me. "What?" I asked putting a hand on my hip.

Billy was somewhat taller than me so he needed to bend down in order to look me in the eye. "Never. Trust. Chris." His tone was ominous.

"I don't, he just-"

He cut me off. "Never trust him. Watch him like a hawk. He'll do anything to turn them against you. Anything."

I raised my eyebrows and looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?"

He looked at me with that sad/pity expression that told me even if he knew something I didn't, he couldn't tell me. "Just-just watch him okay?"

"Sure, whatever. All I know is that I'm going to win this. Whatever it takes, I'll win." I closed my eyes and nodded my head shortly, determination showing in my voice.

The mysterious intern looked more worried than ever. "Don't become so obsessed with winning that you lose yourself. He," he looked around suspiciously and lowered his voice, "He can use that."

This was growing tiresome. "Look, if you have something to say to me just spit it out. It's like you're talking in code!"

He said nothing.

. . .

Billy and I didn't talk for the rest of the walk to Chris's on set office. It was just as well, I didn't need his _obvious_ insanity throwing me off my A game. It _was _a challenge day after all.

When we reached the room he gave me a small nod and headed towards the trailers with my bags. I assumed he'd unpack my stuff and get me settled in.

I turned to the door and took a deep breath before touching the knob. The cool metal sent shivers up my arm. I found the door to be unlocked and walked in, head held high.

The office was almost identical to the one at the loser's hotel, except this one included a movie director style beret and sunglasses, which were currently on everyone's favorite narcissist. Chris gave me his signature smile and stood up to greet me.

"Courtney," Chris said in his usual skater drawl, "Nice to have you here in our humble studio."

I looked at the Chris covered walls and scrunched my nose up in distaste. "Yeah. Humble."

He chuckled and sat back down, motioning for me to sit across from him. "So Courtney, how do you feel about being back in the game?"

I raised my eyebrows in annoyance at his stupidity, "I don't know, I just got here. It's okay I guess?"

Chris's automatic smile grew. "Good. And it'll keep being okay as long as you tell no one that I actually won the lawsuit. And you must act like you won in a landslide."

Okay? Where is he going with this?

I nodded slowly. "Sure, but why?"

"Because I said so." He smirked, "Now get over to studio 12. An intern will be waiting there for you with instructions."

. . .

The blond wig plopped upon my chocolate locks felt itchy and uncomfortable. The StarStalker magazine Billy handed me was unreadable. Four words: Chris Mclain Special Issue. I threw it to the ground and crossed my arms impatiently. Why weren't they here yet! How long does it take to pick a lock and-

I heard footsteps. Voices. I recognized some of the voices to belong to Chris, Heather, Harold, and… Duncan? Chris said something about their team getting to talk to the teller first. This was my cue. I ran over to the counter and turned my back to them so they couldn't see my face. I pretended to read the script Chris gave me.

"Afternoon ma'am, that's a great set of legs you got there," Duncan said in his usual smug tone. I prickled a little at that comment. He _was _flirting with me but he didn't know who I was. Bad move _Dunky_.

"But right now I'd like to focus on those beautiful hands of yours." He continued, "I need them to start filling this bag up with cash."

"Anything else I can do for you today," I spun around to face him, "Duncan?"

His eyes widened at the sight of me and he… he kinda… sorta… screamed and passed out.

Oh this is _so_ not going like I hoped it would.

. . .

"Teams, it is my _honor?_ To report that Courtney is back in the game." Chris read the speech I prepared for him to say if I had won the lawsuit incredulously. I took his tone with a grain of salt and waved to the other contestants, primarily Duncan. He responded to me with a somewhat freaked out expression.

"And we're all _exceedingly happy_ about it." he continued.

"She got voted out fair and square!" Heather argued. I smirked, like she wouldn't have done the same thing.

"Sorry Heather, but myself and the law firm of Fleckman, Fleckmann, Cohen, and Grouse beg to differ. We filed a wrongful dismissal lawsuit against the producers." I paused, to add effect, "And won!"

Harold mumbled something to Duncan and he, in turn, pushed him over. I thought nothing of it.

"So Courtney since you were the bank teller in the challenge, great job by the way," he winked at me and I nodded proudly, "You get to decide what team deserves first prize, your bag of loot."

He tossed me the little brown sack and I caught it with ease. I _was _on the CIT softball team, just so you know.

Smiling softly, I said, "The choice is obvious, it's Duncan." I then blushed at my words and doubled back saying, "I mean the Gaffers, because they were the only ones that managed to get to my wicket."

Duncan cautiously walked up to me and I handed him the loot with a grin, "Congratulations."

"Thank you?" he stammered in a high pitched voice. His face was that of terror and confusion. NOT a good sign.

Heather made a crack about having seen manlier men trying on women's shoes. For once, I agree.

"So that means, The Killer Grips win second prize!" he waved his hand over the loser team. They didn't seem amused.

Justin's blemish-free forehead crinkled in confusion. "What's second prize?"

"Courtney!" Chris shouted and my eyes widened. "For the rest of the game!" The Killer Grips eyes widened. "Or, until she's eliminated!" I gasped in shock.

ME! SECOND PRIZE!

_*Confessional*_

I sat in the makeup confessional for the first time. It smelt of cheap perfume that I assumed to be Lindsay's. _Skank. _But I couldn't think of her right now. I was too busy focusing on the fact that I was thought of as a consolation prize. "Those Total Drama Dirtbags have some nerve making me second place." I shouted angrily and pulled out my cell phone, "They will definitely be hearing from my lawyer… again!"

_*Confessional*_

Chris smirked and in his usual 'I'm gonna torture you kids now' tone said, "So, Grips Gaffers, your getaway cars are waiting. And you better get a move on before the cops arrive." He yelled suddenly, "THAT MEANS GO!"

We all started running.

. . .

When our panting crowd of teenagers arrived at the top of the hill, Justin voiced our thoughts.

"What's allthis junk?"

If Justin had ever been right, that would be the time. Piled in front of us was red and green scrap metal, hardly resembling car parts. As we ran I had heard some of the other contestants wondering what fancy vehicles we would get for our getaway race. This crap was NOT fancy.

As if mocking us with what we could have had, Chris pulled up next to us in a fancy red sports car. "These are your getaway cars, just waiting to be assembled!"

"That is so not hot." Heather observed and, once again, I agree with her.

Chris smiled with sick glee at her complaints. "If the vehicles were ready to go it wouldn't be much of a challenge, now would it?"

We all groaned in response. The sadist laughed and drove away leaving a cloud of exhaust, only to crash in to a tree a few meters away.

"AW CRAP!"

. . .

While Owen, Lindsay, and Beth had gone off to do something stupid Justin and I were left to assemble our 'car'. Technically, _I _was the only one working. Justin was just making eyes at himself in a handheld mirror like some sort of moron.

I glanced at the other team's go cart. Due to Duncan's knowledge of mechanics it was almost done. They were making small talk and, for once, not arguing. I credited that fact to Leshawna being gone, without her to fight with Heather the bitch was a lot more mellow.

I noticed Justin eying them and got even more annoyed than I already was. "Ignore the sideshow and start putting together the chasse!" I roughly shoved a piece of metal at him.

"Is there something I can do where I won't get grease on my epidermis?"

I stared at him blankly, waiting for a 'Haha just kidding' or something along the lines of that. I got none.

I deadpanned. "You're kidding me right?"

He smirked and posed, showing off the palms of his hands. "Hand modeling was one of the things that helped put me on the map."

"Obviously, that was the map of Uselessville! How did I get stuck over here!" I groaned and looked around, "Where are the others anyway!"

Justin shrugged, "I dunno. But you had better finish this car quick. They're almost done."

Glancing at the other team I felt despair my stomach in knots. We were way behind the Gaffers. I dropped to my knees and began rummaging through the pile of metal and putting things together that seemed to fit.

"Justin," I mumbled wearily, "Do you think you could try to help?"

The model flashed his pearly whites and struck a heroic pose. "I'll help by staying beautiful."

I moaned and put my head in my hands. "We're doomed."

. . .

It was hopeless. No matter how hard I tried, the pieces just wouldn't fit together! I had been working hard for what seemed like hours, I was covered in sweat and grease, but it seemed like I had gotten nothing accomplished.

An engine revved and I saw the Gaffer's go cart speed past me. It stopped a few meters away from me and Duncan called "Hey Courtney! Maybe you'll get to see more than just the back of me when the teams merge!"

Angry, frustrated, and waaay too tired to realize what he meant by that, I glanced at Justin (who was making pouty faces at himself in the mirror) and shouted back, "At this point… I'd take it!"

Heather told Duncan something I couldn't hear over their engine, and they sped off.

I clenched my fists and finally let me anger out. "We needed to be starting this challenge yesterday! Where are our wheels! Where is our team!" Suddenly, some higher power answered my plea in the form of a girl's voice with a heavy lisp.

"Here we are!" Beth called, walking towards Mr. Model and me with Lindsay and Owen at her sides.

"We had to rewire his jaw with my thpare hair elathticth. But that'th the good newth." She explained.

A worried look overcame my face. "Wh-what's the bad?" I asked cautiously, almost afraid of what her answer might be.

Lindsay pulled a bent set of wheels out from behind Owen. "These are kind of toast."

"Toast!" Owen perked up happily and Beth responded by slapping him in the face.

I took a deep breath and decided that I wouldn't give up yet. "No wheels does not mean it's over for us! We are going to have to improvise!"

"How?" my so called teammates asked in unison.

I looked at my team and back at the scrap metal, unsure myself of what to do. Then, inspiration struck. I picked up the metal outline of the car I had manage to put together.

"Owen!" I shouted, "You're strong, you take the back! Beth, take up the rear with Owen! Justin, you get the middle! Lindsay, you go before him!"

"Where will you go?" She cocked her head to the side, her large blue eyes filled with confusion.

I smirked, determination in my eyes. "I'll lead the team. Obviously."

. . .

Momentum building with every step, we thundered down the hill.

"Faster you deadbeats!" I screeched angrily, "These aren't called Gaffers and the Slackers!"

Okay… that was a little mean. But in my defense, people work better when their coached. And I wasn't yelling, I was… coaching.

"Now move! MUSH! MUSH!"

"Mush? We're not thled dogs!" Beth shouted in defense of her team.

"Of course you aren't! If you were, this one" I gestured to myself, "would have eaten you!"

Maybe that was a_ little_ harsh. But you would have been mad too if you were put on this team of idiots!

. . .

Just when I thought we had no chance, the Gaffers car stalled. Success!

"VROOOM!" I shouted triumphantly as we ran past the panicking team.

_I knew I could win! _I thought,_ Even on a team of complete duds!_

"FASTER! FASTER!" I commanded as we approached the finish line.

Then… it happened. I don't know how, but someone slipped, knocking all of us down with them.

"AGH!" I screamed in despair and frustration, "I WILL NOT BE SECOND PLACE!"

"Wanna bet? Chris said with a smirk as The Screaming Gaffers crossed the finish line.

I growled in fury. We lost! We about to win, and we lost. And it's obvious who's going home. Me. I mean seriously, I'm the biggest threat. I resisted the urge to scream at the sky, "WHY DO YOU HATE ME!"

. . .

After digging myself and my team out of the rubble I went into the washrooms to take a long shower. That always calmed my nerves. I changed back into my cloths and went to the girl's trailer to talk to my female teammates. We needed to discuss the vote.

As I came along side the trailer I peeked in the window to make sure it was just the Grips girls. Sure enough, Lindsay and Beth were sitting on their bunks discussing something. They looked angry. I figured they were talking about me, my sudden (and slightly unfair) return, and my taking charge of the team. I sighed, not really caring if I had their affections or not. Truth be told, I never really liked either of them. Lindsay was a complete moron, a bottle blond who'd probably sleep with the entire math club if they said they'd do her homework for a month. And Beth? Well, in a nutshell, the girl was completely pathetic.

Swallowing my bad feelings towards the two, I entered the domicile with a friendly smile on my face.

"Hey Lindsay, Beth." I tried to sound as nice as possible.

They looked up simultaneously and gave me small scowls, "Oh, hi Courtney."

Making sure I kept on my smile, I sat down on a nearby bunk and said, "So, guys could I talk to you about something?"

Lindsay crinkled her blond eyebrows in confusion, "What?"

I suddenly got serious. "The elimination."

"Oh, ok I gueth." Beth mumbled, a confused and suspicious look growing on her plain face.

"I think," I started cautiously, "Owen should go."

"What!" Lindsay half shouted, "Why! He's so nice. What do you have against Owen!"

I resisted the urge to face palm. "I don't have anything against Owen, Lindsay! And yes, he's nice but he lost us the challenge!"

"No he didn't!" Lindsay protested.

"Uh, yeah he did! He broke the wheels and chased you guys off. _I _was the only one even trying to put together the car!"

"Well I gueth you're not thuprithed. Like you thaid, we're a team of dudth." Beth sneered, and angry tone implying that I might have said something I shouldn't have.

My cheeks blushed crimson. "Oh… I said that out loud? Sorry guys, I er- didn't mean it?"

Lindsay rolled her baby blues and scoffed. "Whatevs. I think me and Beth will decide who's leaving on our own."

"Fine." I let out an annoyed 'hmmph' and stormed out.

_Nice job on making allies Courtney, niiiice job._

. . .

Elimination time.

I walked slowly to the Guilded Chris Award Ceremony, suspecting it would be the only one would experience. Suddenly, I felt someone grab my arm.

"Dun- Chris."

"You almost called me Duncan." The host smirked.

I scowled at him. "Force of habit."

He smiled and threw his hands up in a 'TADA' sort of way. "Good news! You can't be eliminated tonight!"

I blinked. "Seriously? Because you aren't exactly trustworthy."

"Seriously," he nodded, "We're not gonna let you go that easy."

"Oh, that's great!" I clapped my hands in approval.

"Alright," Chris started, "But you have to pretend the lawsuit got you this. Don't tell anyone what I told you here."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine."

What was Chris hiding? Probably something useless. Something that wouldn't affect me at all…

. . .

I couldn't help but look smug as Chris rambled to my team about how they couldn't vote me off and his massage budget. We all began to vote. I clicked the Owen button without thinking twice. Sorry big guy, nothing personal. When we all finished deciding who would be leaving, Chef handed the vote to Chris.

He grinned, and in a very spokesman-like voice said, "And the Gilded Chris Awards go to Beth, Lindsay, Justin-" he paused to look at the sheet of paper and frowned, "Why do I have four votes to boot out Courtney when I _specifically said_ you couldn't!"

Justin shrugged, "I guess we couldn't help ourselves."

"No matter what," Lindsay started, "My finger would only press the Courtney button."

I wasn't as insulted by their comments as I was embarrassed. THIS is the team I have to represent! Morons.

Chris gestured toward me, "Well, that leaves us with one vote to count!"

"Owen," I smirked at my gasping team, "You've been eliminated."

I rolled my eyes as my teammates yelled about how unfair Owen's elimination was. It's a game show people, play the game. Surprise then took the place of my annoyance when they began to chant for Owen to make a speech.

"He lost the game for us, guys. Hello?" I waved my hand in an attempt to stop their foolishness. Then again, that was as impossible as stopping a train with a single piece of paper.

"Anything in your contract that'll stop him from speaking?" Chris asked in annoyance.

I struggled to remember my contract, "Um, no... but-"

"Then... a little light for my friend here." A spotlight shone on Owen who had suddenly changed into a tuxedo without anyone noticing. (Weird much?)

I slinked away from the scene as Owen began to thank people. I wasn't welcome there, and if I was I didn't want to be. I didn't need friends. I needed to win.

. . .

I didn't go back to the trailers immediately. I walked about the film lot, taking in the scenery. Maybe I was just exhausted, but it looked beautiful in a sense. I pulled out my phone to check the time. 10:00 pm.

"I should head back," I mumbled to no one in particular.

After walking a few steps I felt someone grab my arm. Second time today huh?

"Chri- Duncan!"

He raised an eyebrow, "You almost called me Chris."

"Force of habit."

"Sooooo…" he drawled, "You're back."

"Mmm hmm." I smirked and flipped my hair, "Did you miss me?"

Duncan returned my smirk, "Maybe I did…" He leaned in to kiss me.

Oh no, you're not getting me that easy.

I pushed him away from me and put my hands on my hips, "**Don't **touch me. And stop with the sexual innuendo."

His unnaturally teal eyes widened at both my passing up the kiss and my comment about sexual innuendo. "What?"

"Before," I elaborated, "You said 'Maybe you'll get to see more than just the back of me when the teams merge.'"

"I got that!" he snapped, "I meant the kiss thing!"

"Our relationship is over. You made that very clear when you had a fling with Gwen." I tried to sound like I didn't care. _That _was hard.

He stared at me, blinking before shouting, "Oh. My. God. I don't like Gwen! Why does everyone think we have a thing for each other!"

"Stop playing innocent!" I snapped, "When you're ready to apologize, talk to me."

I walked away. I cried. But only when he couldn't see me.

. . .

Back in the trailer, I found myself faced with four girls, angry and full of questions.

"Girl, you back?" Leshawna asked incredulously.

I nodded.

"Well girl I'm gonna be honest, that ain't fair. You can't just come into the game halfway through!"

I shrugged, "If I had my way I would have been back when it first started.

"How did your lawyers win and not mine! I lost my suit in the first season!" Heather shouted.

I rolled my eyes, "I've got better lawyers." This was a lie, the producers had better lawyers.

"How could you vote off Owen!" Lindsay and Beth shouted in unison.

This crap again?

"He lost the challenge for us." I got closer to both of them, "And by the way, if you guys actually voted for someone who wasn't me, Owen might have stayed and someone more deserving might have gone home!"

"The only one who detherved to go home," Beth gulped, "Wath you!"

Growling in anger, I got even closer to the nerdy girl so that our noses were practically touching. "Listen to me and listen well. It's your own fault that Owen left. Stop blaming me. We're teammates, and like it or not, we have to work together. Don't mess with me, I won't mess with you. Got it!"

She nodded.

I straightened up back to my height. "Good."

I lied down in my bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.

"Goodnight."

Bitches.

* * *

**AN:**

**Me: SO. FUCKING. LONG. PANT COUGH WHEEZE. And BTW I tried to write Beth's lisp. If you cant understand it then just ask me ****J**

**I'm trying to get my 2nd fav show Supernatural more viewers so… epic Dean and Sam quote!**

**Sam: Bon Jovi?**

**Dean: Hey, Bon Jovi has been known to rock, on occasion.**

**XD EPIC! Now look it up. **


	4. Friends and Enemies

**What was I Thinking?

* * *

**

**Chapter 3

* * *

**

Friends and Enemies

* * *

I woke up the day after the challenge with my face itching. More specifically, the area above my lip itching. I contorted my face muscles in an attempt to see if there was a bug of some sorts crawling on me. There was none.

I sighed, _I'm not falling back to sleep_.

Reaching my hand out from underneath the covers, I scratched lightly around my lip. After pulling my hand away I examined my fingers only to find that the tips of them were coated in black. I gasped and reached under my bed for my makeup bag. Unlike Lindsay's bag it was small, since _I_ prefer to look natural. I pulled out my mirror compact and popped it open.

I have a mustache.

A _mustache_.

A FUCKING **MUSTACHE!**

And no, it's not a real one. It's black and curly, crudely drawn on with a mascara brush.

"LINDSAY AND BETH!"

. . .

I ran as quickly as I could out of the cabin. An eyeliner mustache? How immature is that? Seriously. Who are they, a couple of hormonally imbalanced tweens at a slumber party?

Looking in the smudged bathroom mirror, I restrained a chuckle. I looked silly. If I weren't completely outraged and insulted I'd find this hilarious.

I pushed the button on the soap dispenser furiously and began to scrub underneath my lip.

_Scrub, scrub, scrub. _

_Scrub, scrub, scrub._

After 15 minutes of vigorous scrubbing, it was still there, just a little faded. Damn bimbo did something right for once. Waterproof eyeliner.

I glared at my defaced reflection, took a deep breath, and rested my head against the mirror. It's a shame the cool surface couldn't cool my temper.

_Lindsay and Beth need to be destroyed! How DARE they humiliate me like this!I'll teach them not to mess with me! _

_Maybe… Or maybe I deserved this. _

My previously closed eyes shot open at that thought. _They _are in the wrong. _NOT _me.

_You **did** vote off their friend. Wouldn't you have gotten mad if last year Bridgette or Duncan got voted off? Or if they voted off another one of your friends who you could **totally** list if it wouldn't take up too much time?_

I groaned out loud and bumped my forehead against the reflective glass. It's that damn voice again. You know, that little voice in your head that's always telling you you're doing something wrong? That voice you _always _want to punch in the face. Everyone has that, right? Either that or I'm becoming schizophrenic.

I suddenly heard footsteps and the sound of someone grumbling. "Damn rich girl waking me up. 7:00 AM my ass." Leshawna? Yeah, I think so.

Oh God! I can't let her see me like this! I'll never live it down. I glanced at the bathroom. Nowhere to hide except for the stalls, which weren't very pleasant. Sucking up my disgust, I took a step towards the stall but it was too late. Leshawna had already walked in.

"Courtney?" She seemed generally shocked to see me, especially in my current condition. Hmm, good to know she wasn't in on the joke. "What happened to your face, girl?"

Normally, I would have told her to mind her own business or something along the lines of that, but I wasn't in the mood for a fight. "Lindsay and Beth happened." I spat.

The normally loud girl sighed quietly and rubbed her temples, as if she were embarrassed for the two girls who were probably laughing it up somewhere alone. "You sure it was them?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted, "Yeah. You obviously didn't do it, and Heather actually has _some _maturity."

She tensed. "Watch it. I like those two. They're my girls."

"You've got _great _taste." I muttered, and I'm not sure if I meant for her to hear me or not.

Once again, she sighed. I found this strange because Leshawna wasn't the type of person to sigh when she was annoyed; she was a person who yelled. "Girl, do you just try to make enemies?"

Ignoring that comment and posing my own, I asked, "Leshawna, are you feeling alright? You're acting strange."

Leshawna moved her fingers from her temples to the bridge of her nose. "This is how I am in the mornings; tired. I'm just tired."

I sensed that she wasn't just tired because it was the morning, but refrained from asking her more. Fortunately, she decided to let me in on what she was feeling.

"I'm tired of this game, I'm tired of my team, and I'm tired of these pain-in-my-ass people!"

I raised my eyebrows. Was she opening up to me? We were never friends back on the island. Granted, I liked her a lot and I think she at least found me amusing; but we weren't friends.

The mention of her team reminded me of something. Leshawna didn't participate in my first challenge.

"In speaking of your team, where were you yesterday?"

That comment seemed to enrage the previously calm girl. "Where was I yesterday? I was locked in a safe. A fucking safe!"

I felt my eyes widen and my mouth become a shocked 'O'. "You were locked in a safe?"

"Yeah, a safe." She leaned against a sink and glared into the mirror, "My damn team was supposed to get me out of it; as part of the challenge. Damn fools didn't even try! They're still pissed about-"

I cut her off, "When you cried to get the reward challenge?" she nodded, and I nodded back. I'd seen the episode. "They aren't over that already? God, what a bunch of babies. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't think what you did was that bad. A little untrustworthy and very unlike you, but still; not that bad."

She smiled softly. "Thanks girl. But enough about me, let's talk about you. Why'd you want back on this crazy train?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. "I got voted off unfairly in the first season. And, you know, I thought that if I'd stayed on the show I probably would have won. And then when I wasn't allowed to get on the second season, I just got mad. If I'd stayed in the first season then there probably wouldn't have even been a season two. So I wanted another chance."

"There's a lot of 'if's in that story, girl." She had a firm look on her face; eyes squinting, eyebrows scrunched, and lips taut. Ah, this was the Leshawna I knew. "And you can stop with the whole 'I got voted off unfairly' crap. I don't know how you got voted off, but I'm pretty sure it was fair."

I scowled, at her. This was one of the few things I didn't like about Leshawna; she thought she knew everything. "You don't know, do you? I wasn't going to get voted off that night. But your little boyfriend switched the votes so he could spite Duncan. I got voted off because of some stupid male rivalry!"

Her eyes widened, "My little boyfr- Harold?" A look of realization came over her, "Oh. Sorry girl."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too." I snapped, "But sorry doesn't cut it. Sorry didn't put me back in the game, and sorry won't make me win this season. So everyone can shove their sorrys up their ungrateful asses because I am WINNING this season!"

I stood there, panting and pointing an angry finger at her for a quiet minute. She blinked, and burst out laughing.

"Woo," she wiped away a tear and chuckled, "You're funny, girl. Got that fire in your eyes."

I growled and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm serious."

"I know you are." She began laughing hard again, "That's what makes it so funny!"

I let her get her laughs out and waited for her to speak again. "Hun, sometimes shit happens. But you move on."

I sighed and turned to the mirror on the wall. "Maybe you're right. But I'm not moving on until I prove myself."

Leshawna said nothing but copied my movements, and looked in the mirror over her sink. We stayed like that for a while, not looking at each other but looking at ourselves.

She spoke up suddenly. "What's your problem with Lindsay and Beth?"

I tapped my lip in thought. Honestly, I really didn't have one. "Truth? I don't really have a problem with them. I find them a little annoying, but I don't hate them. It seems more like they hate me."

"I hear you were pretty nasty to them and the rest of your team yesterday." She said that simply, with no spite or anger in her voice.

"If by nasty you mean actually playing the game and showing some leadership then yeah, I was nasty." I stared intently at the mirror and messed with my hair, "I swear, that team needs to get in shape. The only challenge they actually won was the one Gwen threw."

Leshawna gave me an understanding nod but remained firm to her point, "You should be nicer to them. They're good girls."

I sighed and looked away from her. "Maybe. But I'll be nicer when they give me a reason to be nicer."

The previously quiet girl grabbed my arm suddenly and spun me around. "You'll treat them right, you hear? 'Cause I need to defend my girls. You got a problem with them; you got a problem with me."

I'm not sure why, but this aggressive display made me smile.

This, in itself, was why Leshawna was so likeable. She was a great friend; fiercely loyal and defensive of those she cares about. This was also one of her unattractive qualities. Sometimes, people need to fight their own battles. But Leshawna, she's jumps right into the warzone with you. Trent's elimination in the first season would be an example. He accidentally broke Gwen's heart, and Leshawna got him voted off because of it. Leshawna was great at making friends and enemies. I was saddened then, because I started to realize what I was going to end up being.

"You're a good friend Leshawna." She looked at me strangely, as if she were waiting for a biting comment afterwards, "You'll stick with your friends no matter what, won't you?"

"I sure as hell will."

"You'll go down fighting for Lindsay and Beth, won't you?"

"You'll treat them like crap until they start being useful, won't you?"

We nodded in unison.

What we said was simple, but an entire conversation was going on behind our words.

_'We can't be friends, can we Leshawna?'_

_'No girl, I'm afraid not. Well, at least not now.'_

_'That's a shame. I don't hate you, you know that right?'_

_'Yes. I don't hate you either. But I stick by my friends.'_

_'This is probably going to be one of our last cordial conversations, isn't it?'_

_'Yeah. For now.'_

We made eye contact, nodded, and she walked out. I wondered why she came here in the first place. I'll probably never know.

. . .

After dousing my upper lip with makeup remover the mustache was gone, and I was heading to the mess hall- erm, I mean _tent_.

Seating arrangements were different than what I'd seen in the episodes I'd watched at Playa Day. During challenge days, people seemed to sit with their teams. But now, they seemed to be separated by sex. Duncan, Justin, and Harold sat together at one table and Leshawna, Beth, and Lindsay sat at the table opposite them. Heather was the only exception, she must have decided to skip an altercation with Leshawna and join the boy's club. I took note of where everyone was sitting at their tables, so I could see all the relationships and alliances. Strategy, you know?

Harold sat at the end of the guy's table, close to Leshawna. He'd occasionally tell her something that she'd sigh and roll her eyes at. I almost felt bad for him. Almost; but almost counts for nothing when someone attempts to ruin your life. Duncan sat on the opposite side of the table with Justin, far from Harold. He looked like he was pretending to listen to the model's senseless babble, but his eyes were locked with mine since I walked in. Lindsay and Beth sat opposite Leshawna. The two yammered on in unison, like Katie and Sadie used to. Heather sat at the far end of the guy's table, and kept to herself.

Now where do I sit? NOT with Duncan. Heather? No. Lindsay and Beth? Not in this lifetime.

The unfortunate thing was that there were no extra tables, or Bridgette. I sighed. _Bridgette. I miss her already._

Swallowing my pride, I grabbed my tray of food and took a seat across from Heather.

Her piercing gray eyes flicked towards me, and the scowl that was already on her face deepened. "What do _you _want?"

"Nothing." I muttered simply. The sharp tone in her voice didn't really affect me. "I can sit here and not want anything but to sit here."

She rolled her eyes at my answer. "Well then why do you want to sit here? Aren't you the one who's all against fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Yes." I mused, "But I didn't come here to fraternize with you. I came to sit here. You started talking to me. And aren't _you _also against fraternizing with the enemy?"

I had her cornered there, we both knew it. My debating skills will make me a fantastic lawyer.

"Whatever. You're acting weird." She looked me over, and her eyes fell on my still slightly red upper lip, "What's wrong with your face? Did you irritate it while shaving or something?" The words were not spoken with concern, but with an exasperated tone. Like she couldn't believe that I even had the nerve to exist in her perfect world.

A thought must have suddenly came to Heather, because her eyes danced gleefully and a sinister smirk grew on her porcelain face. "Or did Duncan get a little too rough last night?"

Most of the things Heather said to me didn't faze me. Granted, I didn't interact with the bitch very much on the island due to the fact that we were on separate teams, but she was still nasty to me. I didn't care much though. But that comment, that comment made me want to hit her as much all the Gophers did.

"For your information," I spat, "Duncan and I are broken up."

"Ooh. Trouble on paradise island, huh?" she smirked and rested her head in her perfectly manicured hands, "Tell me more."

I didn't want to talk to Heather. In fact, I wanted to avoid it at all costs. Knowing Heather, she'd twist my words and use them against me to cause drama and destruction. I was stupid to talk to Heather. But I needed to vent. And more than that, I needed to know that I wasn't insane. I needed verification from someone who wasn't a friend that I'd done the right thing when I broke up with Duncan.

"He cheated on me with that gothic slut Gwen." I swear I saw her smile sincerely when I called Gwen a slut.

"You sure?"

"Pretty positive." I grumbled dryly.

Heather nodded shortly, "I knew there was something going on between those two. I knew. So when did you do it?"

"Last night, when we had a chance to talk alone. The cameras were off and I was walking around. We sort of ran into each other, and that's when I did it."

"How'd he take it?"

"I don't know, I didn't stay to see."

She smirked, "Nice."

It was strange, what was happening then. Heather and I were talking like girlfriends, and there was something natural about it. But Heather and I could never be friends. It just wouldn't work. Would it?

Then, just as I had thought about the situation, it ended. "Well, good luck with your train wreck relationship." She got up and trashed her breakfast, "Have fun with your runny eggs."

Heather pivoted on her heel and strutted out, hips swinging the entire way.

Heather. Hmm, I wasn't quite sure what to think of her. I knew she was a bitch- I mean, she didn't exactly try to hide it- but I always thought there might be another side. She was much less evil this past season, and that further led me to think that she might not be that bad. But then again, it could have been an act and she might be planning something. Whether she was as completely demonic as I thought or not, Heather was most definitely a threat. I had no control of her elimination as long as we were on separate teams, but I'd have to make sure that I'd get her out when the teams merged.

I tapped my fork lightly on my plate and turned my gaze down to look at the 'food' that was in front of me. _I'll strategize later, I need to eat now. Got to keep up my A-game._

I spooned some of the 'eggs' into my mouth and tried not to vomit. _God, I did NOT miss this food._

I was going for another spoonful when I noticed Duncan get up from his seat. He walked into Chef's kitchen and stumbled out a few minutes later, as if he'd been pushed by the poor excuse for a war hero and a cook. I wouldn't be surprised. There was something in his hand, though I couldn't tell what it was until he got closer.

He walked to the spot where Heather once sat, placed a cup of water on the table, and sat down. "It's for you." He mumbled gruffly.

_Oh here we go. This is where he's going to ask for me back. _

I glared at him, then at the water, then back at him again. "I bet you got _Gwen _water too."

Duncan groaned and slumped in his seat, "For God's sake Courtney, I didn't cheat on you."

"Sure you didn't." I mumbled, and rolled my eyes, "What's that?" I returned my attention to the cup.

He chuckled dryly, "My reward from yesterday's challenge."

"Well what did you expect? All of the rewards Chris gives suck. And even if they don't, they do more harm than good." _Duh._

He gave me a look that was something like a frown and a smile put together, and looked up like he was examining his memories to verify what I'd said. "You've got a point."

"Of course I do." I huffed and rolled my eyes (which was starting to become a bad habit for me), "Only morons talk and not make a point. Do I look like Lindsay to you?"

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Someone's feeling crabby today." He smirked, and added, "And don't be so harsh about Lindsay. She's not that bad."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "You're just saying that because she has big boobs."

He instinctively glanced over at Lindsay, and his smirk grew. "You're half right." He winked at me, "I like yours better though."

"You're an ignorant pig." I murmured, feeling my cheeks flush pink.

We sat in silence for a minute or two. Part of me wanted him to leave, and another part wanted him to stay. That seemed to be our relationship; one foot in the door and one foot out. Why couldn't he just admit he cheated on me? It was hard enough figuring it out by myself when I couldn't do anything, now I'm here, and I'm still powerless.

_Just tell me, Duncan! _I screamed internally, _Just admit to what happened and tell me you're sorry! I'll forgive you._

_I'll forgive you…_

It was strange that I felt that way. I shouldn't forgive him, he won't give me any reason to, but I would, in a heartbeat.

"I didn't cheat on you, Princess." Duncan said, his voice almost a whisper, "You know I don't do shit like that. And even if I did," He looked me in the eyes, pinned me to the wall with those aqua orbs, "I wouldn't do that to _you_."

_You._ The way he said that-the way he looked straight at me and said that- it made me want to take him back, right then and there. Fortunately, my better judgment convinced me not to.

I sighed and averted my gaze from his, "I don't know what you'd do anymore."

He groaned and slouched over the table. He looked hopeless. _Great, now you know how I feel._

I got up and threw out my tray. He obviously wasn't going to leave, so I figured I would. Picking up the cup, I spun on my heel and started off.

Looking up at me as I walked away, he said, "I'm not giving up Princess. I'm getting you back, one way or another."

"We'll see." I muttered, and took a sip of the water.

. . .

After exiting the cafeteria tent, I debated where to call Bridgette. I'd managed to sneak my phone in, so I at least owed her a chat. Thinking about it then, I probably should have tried to sure to get her back on the show too. Without Geoff. He totally ruined her chances of winning season 2 by distracting her. I smiled bitterly to myself.

_At least I won't have Duncan distracting me with kissing since we're broken up._

That probably wasn't going to end up being true… Knowing Duncan, he'd annoy me even more since we weren't dating. That was how our relationship was. Constantly a game, until we were together. It was a contest for who would break first. Either he'd break first and apologize, and I'd take him back; or I'd break first and accept him for who he was, and he'd take _me _back. Nobody wanted to be the sore loser.

Pushing thoughts of Duncan aside, I walked into the makeup confessional. If my memory from the island served me well, the cameras would be off and I could talk in peace.

I dialed in Bridgette's number and pressed the 'Call' button. She picked up before it finished its first ring.

"Courtney?" She asked.

"How'd you know?"

She giggled, "Speed dial, smart one." I laughed too. "Thank God you called."

I raised my eyebrows, though I knew she couldn't see my inflections. "Really, why? Miss me already?"

"Yeah." She said with a laugh, and what I assumed was a smile, "But no, I'm not suffering through 'Courtney withdrawal' yet. Geoff is being a pain again."

"Ah. Need to bitch?"

"I hesitate to call it that, but yeah."

"Spill."

"Well," she started, taking a deep breath, "He's still acting like jerk. You know, I thought he might snap out of it, but he won't. It's like he's a totally different person. And it's not just the fame hungry stuff. He's so mean, and getting all paranoid. Half the time he swears I'm cheating on him with anyone and everyone! He's pushing around my friends and acting like he owns everything, and it scares me Courtney. Geoff isn't Geoff anymore. Where's the boy I met on the island?"

I sighed. Poor Bridgette, I knew how she felt. Or, at least I thought I knew how she felt. I fear I'm a bit more cut and dry with things like this.

"Why don't you break up with him?"

Bridgette was silent for a moment. I feared I'd said something wrong, until she finally spoke up. "Because I love him."

And just like that, I went silent too. Bridgette always seemed to kick that word around a lot, _love _this and _love _that. It seemed so natural to her, like in her mind it truly was what all the fairytales described it as. She didn't fear it, unlike most of the people in the world. Unlike _me_.

"Well that's a problem."

"No." she muttered softly, "No it's not. This isn't Geoff talking. He's a puppet, a puppet for Chris, but I know that _my _Geoff is still in there. And I won't abandon him. Because he loves me back."

"Oh."

That was a lame response, but it was all I could say. I didn't understand. I _couldn't _understand. How could she have such blind faith in Geoff? What reasons had he given her to trust him, to love him?

It didn't make sense.

* * *

**AN:**

**Me: Meh, this wasn't so bad. The ending was lame though. I really just wanted the chapter to end XD**

**Sorry for no updates, school's a bitch. Blah :P**

**Courtney: Read and review, and maybe (if she's not a total lazy ass) she'll update soon. She's not making any promises.**

**Me: Exactly. By the way, I figure I'll put in a Courtney themed review question for the hell of it.**

**Today's question is…**

**Who do you most support Courtney with?**


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